


A Moment's Weakness

by SweetSorcery



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: 1800s, 19th Century, Age of Sail, Angst, Angst and Humor, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear of Discovery, First Kiss, Hero Worship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Napoleonic Wars, Romance, Slash, Surprise Kissing, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 11:50:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15994595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSorcery/pseuds/SweetSorcery
Summary: The laudanum is to blame. Probably.





	A Moment's Weakness

When Horatio led Wellard out of sick bay, a hand against the boy's clammy coat, he felt beneath his touch the kind of bone deep, icy fear he remembered all too well from his early days at sea.

Horatio's words to Doctor Clive had not been idle talk - beatings such as the ones Wellard had endured were never forgotten. He knew with certainty that the anger would eat away at the boy's soul. He only hoped it would not poison him, as it was doing to himself even now. Not since Jack Simpson had he despised a man as he did Captain Sawyer. He most sincerely wished for him to rot in hell, and he would gladly speed his way there, if only an opportunity were to present itself.

"Are you well, Mister Wellard?" Horatio asked softly, his hand at the small of Wellard's back.

Wellard looked at him sadly and nodded.

They both knew he was not, but there was nothing - at least not then - that anyone could do, except to pretend.

Horatio smiled, hoping to encourage strength in the young midshipman. "This time will pass, Wellard. I know how hard it is to be the victim of injustice. I have lived through it myself, as has Mister Kennedy have. It _will_ pass. You shall see."

Wellard's brown eyes looked up at Horatio. "I know, sir. Thank you, sir." His lips trembled. "For your... kindness." 

Horatio barely had time to pull Wellard out of the passageway and into a dark part of the hold, before the boy began to sob uncontrollably. "Hush, Mister Wellard," he murmured, fearful that one of the crewmen might overhear and use the loss of control as further incentive to make the midshipman's life a misery. Heaven knew, the boy had enough to deal with as it was.

Horatio held Wellard's shoulders awkwardly, keeping him at a seemly distance, but it was no good. Wellard had reached his limits, and comfort was the only thing that would calm him now, not protocol. Horatio struggled with himself for a moment, then resolutely drew Wellard a few steps further back, behind some large chests piled high enough to completely hide them. There, he closed his arms around the boy and held him tight, allowing him to rest his face against his shoulder, and cupped the back of his head.

Wellard pressed close, his arms moving around Horatio's middle after only a moment's hesitation. His sobs came with some measure of regularity now - a sign that he was struggling admirably to regain his self-control. 

That was well then, Horatio thought. It would not do if they were found like this. All obvious implications aside, he did not wish to remain holding Wellard like this for long. He had not missed the longing gazes, the adoring eyes resting on him so frequently; the soft blush creeping over the round cheeks whenever their eyes met inadvertently, and turning into an even deeper blush with any kind word or encouragement. He knew the signs well enough, having displayed them himself rather frequently on the _Indefatigable_ , whenever his captain was near.

Horatio had no wish to see the boy's life endangered further. He had been telling himself that to simply keep him at a safe distance would eventually diminish the childish hero worship. Yet, this was not a safe distance at all. He was holding the pretty midshipman in his arms, and he suddenly realised that the sobs had stopped entirely to be replaced by a soft panting, Wellard's warm breath penetrating his now damp shirt where it lay against the side of his neck. And Horatio felt that Wellard had turned his face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent audibly.

"Mister Wellard, you must not do this." Horatio spoke gently but firmly, his eyes sweeping quickly back and forth across the hold. He was hoping the boy's respect for authority would once more reassert itself and allow them both to withdraw from this situation, before it was too late. On this ship, and under this command, such an exchange of comfort was life-threatening. And he was only flesh and blood after all, and Wellard's lithe body felt perfectly exquisite against his own.

Wellard knew, somewhere underneath the laudanum haze dulling his mind, that what he was doing was wrong, and that it was Lieutenant Hornblower's duty to punish him most severely, but he didn't care. Punishment at Captain Sawyer's was torment and humiliation. Anything at all, even punishment, at Lieutenant Hornblower's wonderful hands would be heaven, and he would endure it gladly and without complaint.

"Mister Wellard... Henry..." Horatio spoke softly, his fingers tangling in the dark hair as he tried to pull back Wellard's head. He felt resistance, so he proceeded gently to not hurt the boy.

"You called me by my Christian name," Wellard whispered, his breath flowing warmly over Horatio's neck. "Sir, thank you, sir."

Horatio could not help but smile, even as his skin prickled with awareness. "I shall never do so again, if you do not behave yourself."

"But if I do?" Wellard did not let go, merely raised his face up to Hornblower's. His eyes were on fire and his soft red lips parted expectantly. 

Horatio suppressed a groan. "Perhaps," he conceded huskily. "But not in such a public place, Mister Wellard. And it shall be the only indiscretion we will allow to take place between us at any time. Is that understood?"

"Aye, sir." Wellard's voice was scarcely more than a whisper.

Horatio smiled warmly at him. He meant to let go of him then, but Wellard's eyes dropped to his lips. There were but a few inches between their mouths, and Wellard closed the distance with a needy whimper. His lips were soft and pliant, with the mingled tastes of tears and opiate upon them. The flavour must have drugged Horatio by extension - or so he would tell himself later - for instead of releasing the slight body, he closed his arms more tightly around it and returned the kiss with fervour. Wellard went limp in his arms, barely managing to continue to cling to Horatio, as if his strength had left him all at once. Horatio sought and found his tongue, stroking it with his own for more of the boy's taste. Desperate little sounds of want trickled through Horatio's consciousness, but it was only when he felt Wellard harden against him, and the boy's nerveless fingers regained enough strength to clutch at Horatio's back as he pressed closer, that he came back to his senses.

He drew back with a gasp, his hands firm on Wellard's shoulders now, and stared at him.

"I apologise for my momentary weakness, sir." Wellard's voice was tremulous, his eyes lowered in a show of guilt. And yet, the corners of his mouth were twitching. "The laudanum the doctor gave me..."

Horatio cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. "Yes. Yes, of course. I quite understand, Mister Wellard."

Henry Wellard smiled hesitantly at him now, some semblance of life having returned to his sad eyes. Even his freckles seemed brighter, and Horatio fought not to be charmed into another kiss. "Most kind of you, sir," Wellard said. And with that, he turned and hurried away, leaving Horatio to ponder how to deal with his own moment of weakness.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> © and ™ of characters, locations, and some story lines - the estate of C. S. Forester, A & E and possibly other entities; this story was written solely for the entertainment of other fans; no profit is made and no harm or infringement intended.


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